They were different from when I had last seen them. That day when we stood in the rain, the flowers had bloomed to their fullest, thriving in their environment, the spotlight set on them. Today, despite the grey clouds and scent of rain in the air, it seemed as though they had finally tired of the spotlight. They were white and though they were small, they were drooping.

“Jangmi,” Daejung calls my name. It’s weird and it takes a while for me to respond, but I look at him in the end. “What’s your favorite flower?”

I haven’t heard that question in a while.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t have a favorite flower.”

Daejung smiles. “Come on, Jangmi, we’ve been over this. Everyone has a favorite flower, whether they’re aware of it or not.” He pauses and if it were possible for his smile to grow any bigger, it would have. “Just like how everyone has a soulmate, whether they know it or not.”

Soulmates. Daejung doesn’t believe in soulmates—not that I did either, but I found it odd that he had mentioned them. “Why do you like sunflowers, Daejung?” It was the first time I had said his real name, but it had rolled off my tongue so naturally, almost as if the Iris I had known for the past few months no longer existed.

“Because no matter where they are, they always follow the sun,” he says. “Even when the clouds are blocking the sun, even when the moon rises in the night, they stay in their place and wait for the sun. They have so much faith that the sun will rise tomorrow and I think it’s admirable, that sunflowers have more faith that human beings will ever have.” He stops and scratches his head. “I think we’ve had this conversation before,” he says, laughing quietly. I smile at the sound of his laughter.

“Yeah,” I say. “We have.”

“So, Son Jangmi,” he starts again. “Your favorite flower?”

I stare at the small, tired, white flowers. “I’ve been watching them grow this whole time,” I say. “From the moment you showed me them that rainy day on this rooftop up to now. Nothing much has changed, other than the fact that they’ve grown old and tired. They’re ready to leave, withering. They know it, but choose to grab onto that last bit of life that’s left in them.” I sigh, “I don’t even know their name.”

I can feel Daejung’s eyes on me. I want to turn and look at him but I simy couldn’t take my eyes off of the flowers, swaying in the cold post-winter wind. “You never asked me for their name.”

“I don’t need to know their name,” I say. “Just like how our friendship began, I don’t need to know their name to know that I want to stay with them, no matter how long each of us have left.”

“Your way of thinking is so odd,” Daejung says. “I think that’s admirable.”

“Comparing me to a flower now, are you?” I joked.

“I could never compare you to a flower,” he says softly. “You’re far too beautiful to be compared.”